Yet another tape from a while ago that I’m just catching up on. This one starts off with a 20-minute suite from Digitalis alumni Uton. It evokes a lot of the same haunted forest qualities as many of the other Finnish experimental underground artists. It feels like it’s being played by animals under the light of neon stars, then it takes the form of psychoactive bubbles in a luminous pool, then it’s a shortwave radio transmission. The Gonk with a Luminous Nose (more commonly known as The Golden Gonk) follows suit with overdriven hypnotic fuzz. Less prone to shapeshifting or changing form than Uton, he’s more likely to venture hard down one direction, until the location itself morphs into something else. On the tape’s second side, Hausu Mountaineers Roped Off start with throbbing minimalist synths, but then their second track is a noisier and more expansive (but still hypnotic and minimalist in some way) journey through an asteroid belt. Sheaf & Froggatt are the most mysterious act on this tape, and their contributions are titled “Noises Made by Cacti Growing Inside an Alien Hothouse” and “A Ram Sang Under Water”. Those only sound like part of what’s going on, though, but it’s really hard to describe what else is happening. The pieces are much more collage-y and dream-like than the rest of the tape, filled with distant voices and telekinesis and transparency and sudden, alarming shifts. The whole tape is a really good mix of brain-marinating confusion.

It starts deep, then it gets deeper. The type of techno that belongs on a tape, not a record. But much of it doesn’t have beats. The drone pieces sound like swimming in three or four rivers at once. Very disorienting, but something still seems to be consistently pulling you along. Evil robot cats purring. Creaking droids spying me from the ceiling. Disappearing into a mirror. Then there’s deconstructed beats flittering away, and bass grinding away in circles. I have a headache right now and I don’t feel like forcing more thoughts out of my head but this is a seriously incredible tape. Still available at Bandcamp.

With a loose framework of dub reggae, Fletcher Pratt dives deep into cosmic mind soup with this tape. Much of it is more like electro-acoustic music with a beat, filled with chattering voices and seismic tonal shifts. Even though there’s palm trees on the cover, it’s not relaxed tropical chill-out music. It’s actually a lot colder and more barren than you might expect. The second side is a slow drizzle of melted tapes and downcast vibrations. Dub rarely sounds this sad or despondent.
maybe it isn’t really dub? It’s an other. Not for anyone who wants their spirits lifted, but otherwise, tune in on Bandcamp.

So here’s an example of a tape I’ve had sitting on my desk for months and just never got around to listening to it, and then somehow the day I finally decide to put it on, it’s what I need to hear most. I’m in the middle of a 3-day weekend where I just don’t feel like leaving the house or talking to anyone, not feeling any love from anyone, not feeling like my life is going anywhere, definitely not happy about society in any way. This tape alternates between field recordings, harsh noise, and lonely synth meanderings. Titles include “Everything Will Be Okay” and “Try”, making it seem like it’s attempting to push forward even though everything’s hopeless. “5/11/16” sounds like a sort of cop funeral, with a mournful trumpet playing taps while cars pass by on the street, and it sounds like there might be a faint, distant police siren in there. “Sick of Dreams” has a flickering drum machine beat under blown-out ghostly whirring. Most astonishing of all is “Blood Tummy”, a psychedelic noise nightmare on the second side. This album was made by the guy who runs Already Dead Tapes, and it’s easily my favorite thing on the label. Highly recommended, and still available at Bandcamp.

Very short tape of homemade synth and drum machine sounds. Waves floating around, bending, changing colors, and then having sudden seizures and crashing to the ground. “Family Shame Stain” is a loner sludge jam with supremely crushed, distortion-pumped beats and mumbled thoughts leaking out of his head and into broken pitchshifters. “Song of My Dream” is an outer space synth exploration, and then the prettiest melody (or hint of a melody) on the album ends up being the song where he mutters “You’re Fucking Dead” over a wobbly, trippy beat. He did try to make something pretty, and it still turned out ugly and corrupted and sinister, but it’s fine that way, really. Available at Bandcamp.